The Last of Wasted Days
by MomentarySetback
Summary: It keeps happening, yet neither of them is the least bit concerned. They've wasted more than enough time already. Set in Season 8. Begins post-8x11, Delko for the Defense.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Last of Wasted Days**  
****Rating: **Strong T**  
****Timeline:** Season 8. Begins post-8x11, Delko for the Defense.**  
****Summary:** It keeps happening, yet neither of them is the least bit concerned. They've wasted more than enough time already**.**

Okay, I've been turning this over for almost a year and it's finally time to let it see the light of day. I know we all thought (or at least hoped) they were already together shortly after the beginning of season eight, and when we got the "it keeps happening" spoiler a lot of people speculated it may have been something more. What if it was? What if they hadn't spent so much time dancing around what they really wanted?

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-:- one -:-

Not for the first time, Eric felt as though he'd completely lost an opportunity with Calleigh.

She'd been all sunny smiles and playful banter, all coy looks as he "observed" her for the day. Her soft "excuse me" as she brushed by him had been just as playful, and her "Miami missed you" was as open an invitation as he would get.

And yet he was at a loss.

They had been unstoppable – inextricably bonded, soaring full-speed ahead with I love you's and successive nights together. Before the incident with his father, he could count the number of nights he'd spent alone in the past month on one hand.

Despite attempts to deny feelings and slow down, they'd found themselves in the strongest relationship either of them had ever been in. Friendship was already there; giving in to sexual tension was an added bonus, one that pushed the bounds of friendship into something much, much deeper – something they'd known existed but took so long so acknowledge.

Eric knew she'd had a few somewhat committed relationships before, but if the comfortable though restless way she'd attempted to sleep beside him that first night was any indication, she had never experienced anything quite like where they were headed. He'd chuckled, whispered her name, and pulled her close. She'd sighed, met his eyes in the dark, and admitted she felt weird – vulnerable – sleeping with someone else around.

But the ghosting of his knuckles over her arm and the comfort of being tucked against him had eventually lulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep. After all, she'd already trusted him implicitly. The rest had come easily.

They'd effortlessly fallen into a world of late nights and early mornings, of shared closets and dinners prepared together. She had been awed by the way he fit into her heart and her home, and utterly disbelieving of how patient he was with her guarded nature.

When she'd finally let him in, he'd been sucker-punched by a whirlwind of golden hair, creamy skin, Southern words, and genuine, mutual adoration. Suddenly he found himself wanting all those things he'd known he'd want someday – lazy mornings, shared space, kids, a white picket fence, and the promise of forever. Suddenly he wanted it all, and he wanted it all with her. _Someday_ had come over three months ago.

And just like that everything changed.

He'd taken on the mess of his father's criminal activity without a word to her – to protect her, really. The plan was to explain everything afterward, when his father was safely locked away and the Russians would have no reason to track him anymore. But his own team had gotten too involved – _Calleigh_ had gotten too involved. His carefully planned sequence of events had spiraled out of his control.

She'd questioned him, had spoken to him like he was an accessory in the matter. For once, he'd been the one to close off – with good reason – and to say that she'd been affected would be an understatement.

Now, he had no idea where that left them.

Logically, he knew they needed to start over. Rebuilding trust and faith should take time, but time was precious. Time had never mattered to them. After nine years of friendship, three of those loaded with lingering glances, they hadn't been able to help the intensity that instantly colored their relationship. She'd read his file, had known where he stood before she even got involved with him, and it hadn't taken her long to realize she wanted the same.

_Six months. They'd been together for six months, which was amazing in itself, but what really amazed her was that they were here, together, at home, having this conversation._

_God help him, he knew this was too soon, especially for Calleigh, but he couldn't help it. He'd taken on last minute uncle duties this evening, and while he'd known from work experiences that she could manage kids, he'd been completely unprepared for the smile that washed over her face when his youngest nephew had assisted him in greeting her at his door._

_He'd tripped over an apology about ruined plans, but as she stepped into his condo he was far too caught up in watching her take his nephew into her arms when he reached out for her. The one-year-old tugged at her expensive necklace, fisted her long hair into his merciless hands, and slobbered all over her cell phone, but she hadn't minded at all. _

_She'd held him, laughed, and carefully pried her hair from his fists. She'd walked around Eric's condo, bent over slightly to hold two tiny hands as she helped the baby walk in front of her._

_Eric had been blown away. Today had given him the briefest glimpse into something they hadn't dared discuss yet – something he desperately wanted in their future. Today, something had changed a little, had been brought into the light for deeper consideration._

_And it hadn't taken her ten years of learning to read people as a CSI to know the gears were turning in his heart and mind. He was holding her now, letting quiet kisses to her neck and shoulders fill the silence. Seated between his legs on the couch, her back pressed to his chest, she tilted her head to the side as his lips trailed up her shoulder again._

_His lips neared her ear, kissing the corner spot where her lobe met the skin of her neck, and he grinned as he rested his nose against her skin there._

"_So," he began, and she was smiling because he'd finally gotten the nerve up to say something. "You like kids."_

_Arms tightening around her meaningfully, he playfully trapped her and pressed his lips to her skin once more._

"_Yes," she agreed coyly, belly swirling with nerves. "I do."_

_At his appreciative "mmm" in to her skin, she closed her eyes, affected by the soothing low rumble of his voice. But he hadn't quite gotten what he wanted, because liking kids and wanting them were still two very different things. And years ago, when he'd been so confident about working kids into his life even as a busy CSI, she'd seemed a little on the fence._

"_Do you want them?" he asked, still paused there._

_This had the potential to landslide into so much more than they'd bargained for, so she breathed out deeply before replying with a simple albeit a little dreamy, "Yeah."_

_He smiled. "Soon?"_

"_Well," she began, tucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth until she had the right words, less implicative words. "I don't exactly have another ten years, so…maybe soon-ish, yeah." Smiling, she tilted her head back onto his chest. "You?"_

"_Now," he admitted, and she realized he was joking just a little when he added, "Five of them."_

_Laughing softly with him, she shook her head._

Now none of that was within sight. His feelings hadn't changed at all, but hers may have. And things had certainly grown complicated.

She'd been upset over his involvement with his father, more so because he hadn't told her than anything else. And then she'd been confused by his sudden trip to Puerto Rico for a much-needed breather. But he'd needed time away and she'd needed space. It had worked out in a way, though she seemed a little put off by the geographical distance he'd put between them in response to the boundaries they'd haphazardly set forth.

And now? Now he had no idea what to do. She had definitely been a little coy today, much to his delight, and he had the feeling the door was wide open. After everything, he was just at a loss as to how to proceed through it. He didn't want to assume too much or too little, didn't want to start over, yet knew it was too lofty to expect to pick up where they'd left off.

That was why his head was currently reeling – and why he was cracking a bottle open on the edge of his kitchen counter, hoping to ease his racing mind. He took a deep swig and let it settle in, leaning back against the counter

The doorbell was an unwelcome interruption to his ineffective brooding – that was, until he opened his front door to reveal Calleigh on his doorstep. Tilting her head as he opened the door, she lifted a familiar piece of his investigative equipment into view.

"Hey." She brightened, a smile highlighting her features as she coyly let his camcorder dangle from her fingertips. "Think you forgot something."

"Guess I did," he admitted, though his eyes drew over her pointedly instead of the insignificant camera. "You wanna come in?"

"Maybe." She shrugged her shoulders, pressing her lips together to keep a grin at bay. "Do you want me to come in?"

What he _wanted_ was to pull her past the threshold right this second and pin her to the door. Instead he let a half-laugh, half-scoff push past his lips as he turned to walk back down his hallway, leaving her alone with a wide open door as an invitation. It didn't take long for the click of her heels on his wooden foyer floor to resonate throughout his home.

She rolled her eyes a little as she stepped in, closing the door behind her and placing the camcorder on a nearby table. By the time she'd followed him into the kitchen, he was setting the bottle down after taking another slow swig.

"Drinking alone?" she chided as she circled him. Turning her back to the counter, she pressed her hands against the marble and slid up onto it right next to his beer bottle. Eyeing the brand, she gripped the neck of the bottle in her fingertips and lifted it to her lips for a sip.

Flirting. She was flirting with him again. And he sure as hell wasn't going to brush it off this time for lack of clarity.

"Not anymore." Grinning, he purposefully let his fingers cover hers as he reclaimed the bottle, both surprised and utterly not when she let the contact linger.

She shifted, crossing her legs. "So how was Puerto Rico?"

"Beautiful," he admitted, eyes dancing between hers. "You'd fit in."

Calleigh rolled her eyes again, shaking her head as a reluctant smile demanded control of her lips. "That was such a line."

"You loved it."

He was right. She hated cheesy one-liners, but it was the charm behind him knowing good and well how awful it was that got her – and the fact that, despite how long they'd known each other, that charm still got him somewhere. Sometimes.

She spitefully stole the bottle back and tipped it to her lips. This was spiraling somewhere she hadn't exactly anticipated but hadn't ruled out either, and she was going to need a little liquid courage to take the edge off. They hadn't been together in months, yet this was too natural, too easy. She already wanted too much too soon – and not just physically.

"Actually, think I'll get my own if you don't mind." She needed it, but mostly she needed to put a little space between them.

"Here, I can-" He stopped short, for his attempt to move forward and still her with a hand to her knee came just when she was hastily hopping down from the counter. The result was a gentle collision – her body sliding along his despite her last-ditch attempt to stop it, his hand being treated to a quick glide up her curves as he half-caught her body against the counter. He'd been so close to it that she hadn't quite made it down, and currently she was suspended between the softness of his body and the harsh marble pressing into her back. Her belly was tucked against his, his face lingered just above hers, and a world of tension stirred in the little air between them.

She turned away from the temptation of his lips to smile awkwardly, all too aware of the tight grip he had on her waist. "Sorry," she uttered, but the moment she turned back to ease herself down she found them face-to-face again.

With the slightest tip downward, his nose brushed hers imploringly. Lips followed suit, his softly kissing her top lip before fully pressing his mouth to hers. Hands leaving the safety of the counter, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders to let her hands cup the base of his neck. His were already on her waist, but he smoothed his palms down to her hips, letting her complete her slide against his body until she'd reached the floor.

This was different, she realized as he pressed her into the counter again, his lips parting for her, the taste of anticipation hot on his tongue. There was a desire to prove within him now creating a desperate urgency, and she felt it, too. They'd already been a little more open and honest, him with his uncertainty over returning to CSI, she with her confusion over his sudden trip. There was a fire in knowing they could be better now, stronger.

That, combined with the raw desire over being apart for months on end, was rendering her utterly powerless to resist the pull of him. It was as natural as the tide.

Pulling away for a breather, Eric rested his forehead against hers and smiled. "_I'm _sorry. Did you, uh, want to talk?" Despite holding onto every thread of self-control he possessed, his fingers were toying with the hem of her top, one thumb tracing a glossy button he ached to push through.

It was a good question, she had to admit; she just couldn't think of the answer right now. Probably. But there was no way she trusted herself right now to formulate important questions and answers. Instead, she simply kept her eyes locked with his as she drew her hands to her top, slipping a button through – and then another, and another… Creamy skin peeked out at him and he slowly pressed his palms to her abdomen, feeling her flutter at his touch.

That was answer enough. His lips had found hers again in no time, hands trailing upward to take over for hers. After a short press and slide of lips, his teeth tugged at her bottom lip imploringly as he pushed the offending top from her shoulders. He caught sight of the red lacy material his hands were now trailing over just before she pressed her mouth to his firmly. Her lips moved with his, hot and insistent as his fingers trailed over her covered breasts, lingering just long enough to tease. The needy groan of protest that escaped her lips between heated kisses was his undoing, and he drew her hips closer in response.

She gripped the edges of his shirt, moving her hands up to make quick work of the buttons. Needing his skin against hers, to feel the ripple of his muscles beneath her fingertips, she pushed his button-up over his shoulders. With a desperate, breathless sigh, he tore away from her lips only to pull his tank over his head and let it fall haphazardly to his kitchen floor.

Her eyes flickered over his chest appreciatively before raising to meet his gaze, not at all surprised by the softness tempering down the harsh edge of desire in his eyes.

Wrapping his arms fully around her waist, he tucked her against his skin and offered, "Upstairs?"

Silently, Calleigh pulled away, his hand reaching for hers and holding on to the tips of her fingers until the last possible second as she stepped backwards. Almost into the hallway now, she couldn't resist the temptation of a smile as she lifted her hands to her waist and slipped the button on her black pants through.

He caught on quickly, chuckling softly as he took a step forward and watched her slide the zipper down with painstaking slowness. As she backed up toward the stairs, he noticed the beginnings of red lace obscured by her pants and grinned further. She shrugged coyly, toeing off one high heel and then the other until she'd dropped a good five inches.

And that was the final straw – her all adorable and seductive on his stairs, like some perfect manifestation of his dreams over the past several months. The moment he met her at the base of the stairs, he picked her up by hugging her thighs and reveled in the soft, feminine laughter that graced his ears. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, like she always did when she'd given him no choice but to haul her off to have his way with her.

This time, though, she grazed her fingers over the back of his skull and sighed contentedly. She'd missed him – had missed the calm his presence drew out of her, missed the way his hands skimmed over her skin as he settled her onto the bed. Skilled, familiar hands hooked the sides of her slacks to draw them down her hips. Warm, full lips landed on her abdomen with awe before slowly trailing up her body.

"Missed you," he mumbled against her mouth as he pressed it to his. Pulling kiss after kiss from her lips, he let his palm settle at her waist, encouraging her deep arch in to him. And when her hands began fumbling for his belt, he somehow easily found the resolve to kiss the corner of her mouth and whisper, "Are you sure?"

She ducked away to meet his gaze and knew. In his chocolate brown eyes, she found the need to know they were okay, that this wasn't a reckless culmination of desire and need after separation. He needed to know this wasn't _just_ familiar; it couldn't be something they simply fell into to make things right. It needed to _be_ right.

They hadn't talked yet, and she honestly wasn't sure she could give him that so soon despite already feeling it stirring within the depths of her. So she held his gaze, the intensity of which made her release a weighted breath before she nodded, capturing his lips with hers. They'd wasted more than enough time already.

Both with the rush of need and all the time in the world, his hands careened and skimmed and grazed over her curves, changing the pressure and speed of his touch as he moved about her body. Revealing the rest of her skin to his adoring eyes and curious hands, he finally guided his deft fingers where she needed them most. Pleasure rippled low in her belly and her heartbeat quickened, racing beneath his lips as he pressed them to her pulse point.

He stroked and whispered, and the pleasure blossomed, spreading outward until her body quaked beneath his and his name fell from her lips. The urge to have him closer was overwhelming as she tugged him down to her, forgetting he wasn't properly undressed when his pants scratched her bare thighs. She let out a little grunt of displeasure against his lips even as she hooked a leg around one of his.

"Off," she requested, a sated smile curving her lips upward as he pulled back to reach for his belt. As he discarded the final barriers between them, she pushed up onto unsteady knees to straddle him when he returned to her. Her hands did a little exploring of their own as her lips trailed down his neck, kissing and nipping until his hands were pressing into her hips.

Letting him draw her closer, her eyes fluttered open against his skin and she sighed, frustrated as she remembered an important detail even amid warm skin and _Eric_. "Eric," she uttered against cheek, and she could feel his fingertips digging gently into her skin for control.

"Cal," he returned, wanting, needing.

"I'm not on the pill anymore." She paused, breathless, and watched his eyes search hers.

"Oh." Eyes still fixed on hers, he smiled – a little sheepishly.

"Yeah." Biting her lip, she curled her fingers into a loose fist and let her knuckles graze the base of his neck imploringly. "Do you have anything?"

"No," he said reluctantly, palms caressing her thighs.

"_No?_" The notion of him not having a box stashed away somewhere was hard for her to accept, and the little smile playing across her lips at that amused him.

"Didn't need any with you," he explained, lips softly taking her bottom lip hostage for just long enough for her to need to tug it free. "Didn't want anyone after you." Fingers tangling into her soft, tousled hair, he admitted, "I didn't want there to be an 'after you.'"

Dropping her forehead to his, she let out another little frustrated sigh. "You are not making this easier…"

He chuckled softly and pressed his lips to hers. "Do you want me to go g-"

"No," she interrupted, arms instinctively tightening around him. She felt a little weak for that, but she needed his warm skin beneath hers, needed to feel him everywhere… Her hand glided down his chest, lingering teasingly on his abdomen.

"Calleigh," he practically groaned.

"I know," she agreed, carefully pushing up onto her knees and tilting his head back as she pressed her lips to his. Everything she'd been conditioned to be concerned about fell to the wayside as their mouths melded together over and over, his thumb tracing the hollow of her neck.

She shifted a little and lowered just enough for him to feel her heat, hovering there in question. He gripped her hips and met her eyes, judging the certainty there before he urged her down in silent, reckless response.

Somehow, it didn't feel reckless at all, though. It simply felt right. They were done wasting time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: **Thanks to finals, holiday insanity, and kind of forgetting how to write, this took a lot longer to write than I had intended, but it's finally up. Happy Holidays to you all!

**Note #2: **When I posted the first chapter, I forgot to mention that this should be five or six chapters long.

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-:- two -:-

The ghosting of his fingertips over her arm almost tickled, and when she shivered a little he smiled, applying firmer pressure in response. They were tucked beneath the covers, lying face-to-face with mere inches between them. She only had to let her eyes flutter open to find his in the dim light. She hadn't fallen asleep, really – she'd been drifting, letting his touch lull her in to a deep, weightless calm.

She grinned as her eyes met his. "Hi."

"Hey." His lips curved upward, fingers gliding up to skim her shoulder. "How are you?"

"I'm good." She nodded rhythmically until it dissolved into a soft laugh. "You?"

"Oh, I'm good. Very good." He retained his smile at the understatement and then waited, watching as he traced the curve of her jaw. This was so familiar, so right, yet worlds had come between them since the last time they'd been here.

His eyes studied hers, watching, waiting. She seemed just as unclear.

Calleigh held the sheet to her chest and sighed, letting the last of any burden leave her body. And then, after contemplatively biting her lip for just a moment, she told him, "Sharova asked to speak with me."

"Yeah?" His brows knit together. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine." Shaking her head dismissively, she thought back. "I went to see him in holding," she began, eyes searching his, "while you were in Puerto Rico."

Eric only nodded softly, taking it in. It was a little strange to him – the idea of Calleigh and his biological father who wasn't exactly family in the same room – but he knew she'd needed answers, both professionally and personally.

After watching understanding settle in his eyes, she continued. "At first I just thought it was about the case, but…"

"It was about me," he finished.

Her lips tightened apologetically and he knew. He knew that Sharova had been feeling particularly guilty about the wedge he'd driven between them, knew that he'd been wanting to clear the air… And, judging by the patronized, yet backhandedly appreciative look in her eyes, he'd done a whole lot more than that.

She rolled her eyes for good measure. "Why do you have it in your head that you have to protect me?"

Yeah. He was in trouble. He'd explained it to her before, had glossed it over with the expected notion of not wanting her involved. And all the while he'd knowingly left out any indication of "protecting" her even though it was implied.

With a deep sigh, he propped himself up on one arm. "I know I don't _have_ to protect you, Cal," he admitted respectfully. "But I wanted to. I didn't want them to know about you."

She knew she should've appreciated that – and maybe in some small part of her she did, but… "Eric, dealing with criminals is my job."

"I know." He bit his lip, his eyes softening to that adoring, almost shy look, like a little boy finally, reluctantly admitting what he really wanted. And it was her. "But they're Russian mob, Calleigh. They have sources everywhere, and if you so much as looked up one of them, or searched a connected case, they'd be watching you. And if they knew you were with me…" Not wanting to go there, he shook his head slowly. "They take collateral," he stated simply, yet she got the message. "I wasn't going to let them take you."

At that, her eyes softened a little – and because his hands were back on her, fingertips brushing over her cheek as he tucked hair behind her ear. "Still," she pressed, "I could have helped you, watched your back… I'm a cop."

"And you're a good one," he affirmed, though a smile was tugging at the corners of his lips that let her know there was more. "But I get to see you like this." His hand ducked below the sheet pointedly, trailing down her bare side until he reached her hip before trailing back up. "You're soft, and I love your laugh, and I know that you bruise when you bump your hip against a counter…so no, I didn't want you involved," he admitted, a little playfully. "But yes, I should have told you."

She couldn't decide if she was being patronized or seduced, but the way his hands were smoothing over her thigh had her gravitating towards the latter. And then he leaned down, pressing his lips to her shoulder in silent apology before he rested his chin there. "Have dinner with me tonight? We can talk."

"Tonight?" She raised a brow, searching for the time until she found it on the bedside clock behind him. It was three in the morning. A wave of anxiety ambushed her. She needed to be home in three hours, at work in another hour and a half… But the feel of his fingertips along her arm stole every bit of her focus and she smiled. "Come to my house. I'll make you dinner."

In a sudden shift of bodies, she had him forcefully pinned beneath her, her weight on his hips, surprisingly strong arms pinning his wrists to the pillows. He knew what she was doing – showing her strength, her ability…penance for making her feel like such a girl.

"Okay," he easily conceded. She let up with a smile.

* * *

By the time she was letting him in, she'd had the chance to change out of her work clothes and into a deep maroon dress. It was low cut, but draped loosely over her curves, thin ties holding it snugly around her waist. He couldn't draw his eyes away.

"Hey." She smiled freely, a recent development around him again. He really wasn't sure where this all left them, but if her ease around him was any indication then he didn't think he had to worry.

Holding her waist for a moment, he dropped his lips to hers for a brief kiss, but lingered. "Hi."

He stepped in beside her, her eyes raking over his jeans and fitted tee appreciatively. Wordlessly leading him through the foyer, she watched as he set a paper bag down on her kitchen counter.

"What's in the bag?"

Eric grinned – a little mischievously – and lifted a bottle of red wine from the confines of the bag. After her tilt of approval, he reached in again, this time retrieving a little purple and black box.

"Condoms." She laughed nervously. "You brought me condoms." Pressing her lips together, she nodded, taking it in with a smile threatening to steal her resolve.

"Is that bad?" He tilted his head a little, watching her curiously.

"No, I'm just having college flashbacks." She matched his smile at first, but as last night flashed through her mind the full gravity of the situation pulled her back down. "But no, it's good. Last night was, um…" Resting her shoulder against the doorframe, she bit her lip. It hadn't been a bad idea, nor was it a mistake.

"Risky?" he supplied with a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Yes…" She got the feeling he didn't mind – and that unnerved her a little, but only because she couldn't see the playful gleam in her own eyes. "That probably shouldn't happen again."

"Right, that would be…" He didn't have the words either, so he simply met her eyes as memories overtook them.

Calleigh had to look away, wistful yet conflicted eyes drifting across the room.

_She couldn't stop thinking about it. "Soon-ish," she'd said, coyly. But how soon was that? They'd talked about it a month ago, and now she couldn't get it off her mind._

_This was unavoidable, with constant reminders at the grocery store, at work, with his family, in his eyes… And with every death she investigated at work, she thought of new life. With every evil, she thought of good, of innocence. Mostly, though, she thought of his eyes…that gorgeous deep brown that ran in his family, how they softened and lit up whenever he was around children. It was probably very similar to the look currently in her eyes as her fingertips lightly gripped a photo of his nephews clipped to his refrigerator._

_Quit, she ordered herself, but she couldn't. She could only think of potential sleepless nights in a rocking chair, of bleary early mornings…of how she wouldn't mind at all considering the cause. She was thinking of that way he looked at her whenever the topic came up, of the words in his file a _year and a half_ ago. She could only think of how much she wanted this, of how ready she felt, how ready _they _felt._

"_Can't sleep?" The voice behind her interrupted her daze, but only for a moment. When his arms slipped around her waist and he tucked his head into the crook of her neck, it came right back._

"_No." She sighed, setting the half-empty glass of water on the counter so she could rest her arms over his._

_After pressing his lips to the warmth of her neck, he glanced up, following her gaze to the array of family photos on his fridge. "What are you doing?"_

"_Nothing," she insisted, brushing it off. This was silly. "Just getting some water."_

"_Hmm." Eric secured his arms around her, not buying it. "What's bothering you?"_

_With gentle kisses landing on her jaw, she gave in a little. "I'm thinking about that conversation we had…"_

_He turned her a little to give her a look – a raised brow, amused, do-you-know-how-many-conversations-we've-had look._

_Smiling, she shook her head at herself. She wasn't sure she wanted to disclose this particular train of thought, both for her sake and for his. With what she knew about him and about them, bringing this up would do more that open a can of worms. It was everything._

"_About children," Calleigh finally admitted, pressing her lips together. "About having them."_

"_Oh, that conversation." He was trying not to jump to conclusions, but failing miserably. And so a cautious grin was spreading across his lips as he asked, "What about it?"_

_Leaving his arms, she turned to rest her back against the counter, pushing her arms back to rest her palms against the edge. "I've just been thinking about it." She bit her lip, glancing downward before her eyes flickered back to his. "A lot." His grin broadened and she smiled nervously. "I think I want 'soon-ish' to be just…soon, maybe."_

_He'd never heard her sound so shy about anything and it was adorable. "Yeah?"_

"_Yeah," she affirmed, nodding. "Not now, just..."_

"_Soon?" he finished for her, hands finding her hips._

"_Yeah," she breathed out. Matching his smile, she placed a hand over his bare chest, letting the warmth radiate throughout her palm. "Soon," she echoed – a promise._

_But three weeks and a few half-truths later, all promises would be forgotten amid his father and utter chaos._

_

* * *

_Dinner was a relative term, apparently. It had to be, because for them right now there was no food. There wasn't even wine or conversation.

There were, however, quiet kisses, and bare skin, and tousled sheets…

She didn't know how it had happened. One minute they were searching for her phone and the next a call from his cell to hers had led them to her bedroom. She'd left it on the bed while changing earlier. She'd rolled her eyes at herself, but the amusement had been short-lived.

The tension of being here, in her bedroom, with him again had far outweighed that. He'd closed the distance between them. She'd shifted her weight, anxious, waiting. He'd let his hand trail along her jaw and into her hair before pressing his lips to hers, softly but with heat. She'd kissed back, had found his muscular arms with her hands, and one thing had led to another. Before she knew it he'd tugged the ties of her dress loose and had gently tucked her between his body and the mattress. It had been inevitable.

His lips now trailed up the side of her neck and she laughed softly, acquiescing as she tilted her head to the side. With her back pressed against his chest and her cheek now resting on his shoulder, she let his warmth continue to surround her. Sighing contentedly, her eyes fluttered closed and he watched, transfixed.

She adjusted the sheet draped over her chest and he smiled when her hand returned to its resting place: over his arms on her abdomen.

"I could fall asleep now." She gently broke the silence, sighing again as he kissed the back of her neck. She hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time.

Eric nuzzled his face against her skin and chuckled softly. "Maybe you should."

Her eyes opened at that, seeking his. "No." She didn't want to sleep, not when they'd just gotten this back, not when his lips had just reclaimed hers. Turning, she found his adoring gaze and wrapped her fingers tightly around the back of his hand. "Stay?"

He rested his cheek to hers, just barely able to touch his lips to hers, too. "Of course."

Smiling, she relaxed against him again, taking in the warmth, the calm, of his presence. They still hadn't talked about anything, and yet she knew. She knew they were falling right back in where they'd left off – naturally, effortlessly. It was what they did.

"Calleigh," he eventually uttered, when she was halfway between wake and dreams. She breathed in deeply, eyelids gently fluttering back open. "Do you still trust me?"

"I do…" she answered softly, eyes holding his gaze for as long as she could keep them open.

He kissed her temple and sighed contentedly. That was all he needed. The rest he already knew. He let her drift off again, watching as the soft light illuminated her creamy skin. For the first time in a long time, he knew that absolutely, unequivocally, they would be okay.

And downstairs, that little box still sat on her counter, not quite forgotten but certainly untouched. Because sometimes promises aren't kept with words. Sometimes, they just happen naturally.


	3. Chapter 3

-:- three -:-

It _did_ keep on happening. And they really needed to talk about it. He knew she was right, and he'd had every intention of respecting her concerns in that locker room despite his playful smirks and quips.

But of far, far more importance right now was the sight of her half-naked on his dining room table, black lace covering just a little too much of her upper body for his liking. _Right_ now, though, his hands were slipping the button of her jeans loose and tugging at the zipper, and just when he'd begun to slip the material from her hips she found her voice.

"Eric…"

He looked up at her, meeting green eyes with a flicker of not-so-reckless abandon in his, but didn't stop. No, he could never stop – not when she was arching like that at the feel of his hands careening back up bare skin after ridding her of those offending jeans.

She knew they needed to talk about this. They _should_, at least. It was what they were supposed to do. She'd had this conversation at the beginning of every relationship she'd ever been in. She'd always been in control, had always covered her bases so well she'd never even had a scare.

And then she had the sweeping realization that this wouldn't even be a "scare." It wasn't like she hadn't thought of the consequences. Actually, every time she thought of the potential consequence it seemed pretty amazing… She never would have let him unravel every last thread of her control had she not wanted this in some small – or very, very large – part of her.

But still…they hadn't made a decision here. And in her world decisions needed to be made so they could be adhered to. They hadn't even discussed what they were doing – why his closet was filled with her clothes again, or why she could count the number of nights she'd spent alone lately on one hand. She supposed she knew the answer deep down, which was why she was merely biting her lip to hide a smile as his fingers caressed the delicate underside of her knee.

Calleigh propped herself up – first on her elbows and then on her palms, watching as he tucked her leg against his side. Suddenly he'd slowed down, and she had to wrap her leg around him a little and tug him closer to earn his touch back. His hand slid around her waist as he leaned in, lips skimming over her belly and then up to her ribs.

"Eric," she tried again, grinning when that ceased to deter him. This was bad. They were at his house, and that oh so important little box was most definitely at _her_ place.

"Calleigh," he echoed playfully, lips jumping over lace to press against the swell of her breast. His kisses drew lower again as deft fingers unclasped the material from her body.

"Okay," she uttered, keeping herself in check as his tongue graced her skin. His hand dipped lower in tandem, back down her belly so his fingers could dip beneath the hem at her hips. "Okay." But a moment later a hushed "oh god" was escaping her lips and she white-knuckled the edge of the counter as his fingers ventured lower still.

"Don't bring him in to this," he mumbled against her skin. "I'm Catholic, I feel guilty enough as it is."

Laughing, she ran her hand over the back of his head and drew her lips close to his ear. "You so never feel guilty about this."

"No," he agreed, grinning. "No, I don't."

A little gasp escaped her as he applied pressure. Creating a trail upward with his lips, he buried his face in the sweet crook of her neck and kissed the skin there. "So how am I doing?"

Her brows furrowed and she was silent, save for a hitch of breath as he stroked and kissed.

He chuckled against her skin, knowing what the answer must be if she'd already forgotten. "Making up for leaving last night…" he reminded.

"Oh." She pursed her lips a little and shrugged, feigning apathy. "Okay, I guess."

He pulled back in time to see a devious smile making its way across her lips and shook his head in playful disbelief. Challenging her, he quickened the pace of his fingers and swallowed her moan as he pressed his lips to hers.

"Liar," he accused.

"Maybe." She guided his lips back to hers.

He indulged her for a moment before resting his forehead against hers, watching her eyes flicker back and forth between his. "I am so in love with you," he uttered. There was almost a little humor in it, a little awe. He had never been so infatuated, had never loved someone so long. She challenged him and he liked it.

All coy words now tossed aside, she simply captured his lips with hers and pulled him down until skin met skin.

/

By late that night they'd made it to his living room, where she was nestled between his warm body and the couch cushions. His tank for the trip to the gym he'd never taken now adorned her upper body – and rather well, he thought, eyeing her curves beneath the blanket. Her long hair spilled everywhere and, despite the long day they'd had, her eyes were bright as they studied his.

He took her hand in his own, weaving their fingers together and bringing her knuckles to his lips. She watched him still and he could practically see the questions in her eyes.

Softly clearing his throat, he said, "I'm sorry, you wanted to talk."

"Yeah," she agreed, duly noting the little smirk still toying at his lips. "Kind of a moot point now…"

"A moot point, huh?" he teased.

She held her ground with a firm, "Mmhmm."

His fingers dipped beneath the hem of the tank to skim across her side as he collected his thoughts, though that wasn't working very well. With a hint of regret in his eyes, he uttered, "That probably shouldn't happen again."

She smiled, tracing the edge of his jaw. "We said that last time…"

"Did we?"

"Pretty sure." She searched his eyes with a playful gleam in her own. "Maybe I'm mistaken."

"Maybe you are." He delicately kissed the inside of her arm and she smiled, delegating herself to this blissfully aware state of ignorance.

Easing his body slightly over hers, he gently pinned her against the cushions. Her legs tangled further with his and she sighed contentedly at the fit. She'd never really been good at this – the quiet, the stillness. Company, especially intimate company, had always made her restless. She'd never been able to just simply _be_ with someone. Maybe, in retrospect, it was because she'd never wanted to.

Because with Eric it was easy, effortless. She didn't mind being pinned in this cocoon of blankets and warmth. She didn't mind the intrusion of intimacy, or the invasion of space. She almost didn't mind that, with a glance into her green eyes, he could read her mood, and sometimes even her thoughts.

And she cared surprisingly little that they were taking leaps and bounds in their relationship that were just as drastic as the break they'd been on just weeks ago.

"My family is having this birthday dinner for my sister this weekend," he told her softly, slipping his fingers through her hair and tucking it behind her ear. "I think you should be my date."

Exhaustion was beginning to dull her sass, and so she was hiding a yawn as she said, "Mmm, I bet you do."

"I'm being serious." He smiled a little as he ran his fingers beneath her chin, simply taking in the sight of her. "Will you go with me?"

When she really considered it, she hesitated, thinking of the family that had so readily welcomed her. They'd been wonderful, and then she'd been absent from their lives throughout the past few months amid supposed mistrust and inconsistencies. She didn't know how much they knew, or how they would feel about her now…

"I don't know," she admitted, focusing on her fingers as they splayed across his chest.

"They don't know much," he promised. "I actually haven't seen them much either." Taking her hand back into his, he pressed his lips to her palm and whispered against her skin. "Please?"

Powerless, Calleigh smiled. "Okay." She bit her lip. "But only if you order me Chinese," she added, punctuating her request with a push to his chest. "We keep skipping dinner and I'm starving."

"Deal," he agreed, reaching for his phone after one more pointed glance at her.

* * *

The moment Calleigh entered the Delko household, she was overwhelmed by the sense that nothing had changed at all – between anyone. When Eric found out about his biological father, she'd been worried the dynamic in his family might change. With the truth out, there was room for questions, accusations, misunderstandings, and distance. But Eric's family had been his solid ground, even when he'd gone soul-searching with Sharova.

And here they were now, willing to do the same for her when she'd been gone for several months. Eric's mother was welcoming her with open arms yet again.

"Calleigh," she uttered under her breath. Gently holding her arms, Clorinda took her in for a moment before pulling her into a loose hug. "It's so good to see you."

And as Eric threaded his fingers with hers, tugged on her hand, and tucked her back against his side, she was struck with the feeling that they were just as solid. They were just as unchanging. She still felt calmed by the feel of his body beside hers. His hand still found the same spot on her hip to hold. And all their hopes and plans were still very much alive, as evidenced by the current light in his eyes.

They entered the kitchen just as Eric's youngest nephew was beginning to teeter around the room on still unstable legs. Eli was making the rounds, gripping each person or surface for support as he passed by until he'd made it to Eric and Calleigh. Tiny fingers balling up a fistful of her pants, he leaned into her for support and looked up, smiling.

All it took was a smile from her and an enthused "hi" to send him into a sudden fit of giggles that made him wobble even more. She bent down in response, holding his sides to steady him as he watched her with entranced eyes and a wide grin. He'd nearly doubled in size since she'd seen him last, and he'd certainly been practicing walking in the months since she'd led him all around Eric's home. It was the one indication of how much time had lapsed since she'd been here, of what she might've missed with both Eric and his family.

"You can do it all on your own now, can't you?" she said to him, and Eric found himself melting at the genuine softness in her voice. Eli tapped his hands against her arms, laughing before he took off again in a surprisingly stable yet bouncy walk.

As Calleigh stood up, she felt Eric's arm secure around her waist again and knew without looking that his eyes were on her. She could feel the weight of his awe, of the unspoken decision between them. Not wanting him to see it in her own eyes, she simply watched Eli go.

"Looks like you made quite an impression," he whispered in her ear, fingers squeezing her hip. She smiled disbelievingly, brushing it off, but when her eyes finally met his he saw the same realization there, the same light.

If they weren't careful…they could have that, she thought, eyes flickering back to the young toddler as he teetered back to his mother. Did they really want to be careful at all?

The feel of Eric's mother taking her hand startled her from the thought, and she turned to her as Clorinda's sympathetic eyes landed on her.

"Oh, and Calleigh," she began, her thumb gliding over Calleigh's own. "I am so sorry about your mother's friend. We missed you at Thanksgiving. Lo siento."

The flash of confusion in Calleigh's eyes and the furrowing of her brows were lost on Clorinda, but Eric discreetly poked her side and she knew. She met his gaze for a very brief moment, taking in his sheepish, nervous features, and she so knew. Eric was a liar.

She played it off well, smiling sadly and squeezing Clorinda's hand back. "Oh, thank you. I didn't know her well, but my mother was very close to her." Her eyes surveyed the room before she added, "I wish I could have been here, too."

"Well, we're happy you're here now." Clorinda gave her a final touch before walking away again.

Calleigh immediately turned to Eric, discreetly shaking her head. Her eyes were both indignant and amused as she muttered, "You are such a liar. They don't know _anything_, do they?"

He could only smirk as she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow – hard.

"Are you kidding me?" He raised his brows. "My mom would kill me for losing you."

He might have been afraid of the deathly glare that followed had it not been accompanied by the curve of a smile.

Deep down, she loved the notion. They weren't pretending it hadn't happened. They were working through it privately, quietly… She trusted him again – trusted him _still_. It had happened far more quickly than either of them had imagined, she knew that; she knew that it was monumentally telling. And to an outsider, nothing had changed at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: **_So sorry for the long wait on this. This semester is (and will be) my hardest one in terms of workload. I've been working on this little by little over the weekends, though, and I finally have it finished. There should be one more chapter before this is complete. Thanks for being patient, and - as always - thanks for the reviews!_

* * *

-:- four -:-

The past week had been grueling. Between analyzing a complicated crime scene, interpreting confusing evidence, and riding the fine line between defending and investigating a colleague, Calleigh was exhausted. They'd closed the case late last night, and she'd gotten home in time to catch five hours of restless sleep before waking to start it all again today.

Another day, another case, another gun to test-fire…and for once all she wanted was her bed. She didn't want to make small talk with co-workers, didn't want to hear sob stories from suspects, and she certainly didn't want to spend half her day in the eternally cold ballistics lab. She didn't want to admit it, because it was kind of rare for her, but she was…in a mood.

It had a little to do with the sudden onset of empty nights spent alone, a little more to do with lack of sleep, and a _lot_ to do with the thoughts that hadn't stopped plaguing her mind for two days now. She'd been worrying over something she told herself she shouldn't be, had been letting her thoughts spiral beyond control – and that was something she hated doing.

On second thought, maybe work would be a good distraction. She could bury herself in casework, immerse herself in the lives of others, and hide her own concerns between the pages of ballistics reports. Maybe it would at least distract her from the wave of anxiety that had been washing over her with increasing tenacity ever since Horatio's "all clear" call from Los Angeles. He and Eric were done there, coming home… A little part of her was excited like she should have been, but that was far overshadowed by the uneasiness stirring within her.

Taking in a steadying breath, she pushed the barrel of the small revolver out and emptied the cartridges. Cheap ammunition. Her shoulders slumped a little and she gave a disapproving shake of her head.

Behind her, Eric was chuckling silently in the doorway because he knew. And he was taking a moment to admire her because he could. She was turned away from him, long hair half clipped back with a few of her natural waves still cascading down. She must have been in a rush that morning.

Eyes zeroing in on a particular piece, she grabbed a swab, lifted some trace evidence, and sealed it off in a container. As she ran a bore brush through the barrel, she sighed, disapproving again.

He loved watching her work. She could expertly disassemble any weapon and have it reloaded properly within minutes. She had such confidence in her movements, such grace. But today there was something a little more. Frustration maybe? She'd pulled the brush through a little more hastily and she slapped the reloaded cylinder into place with a bit more force than usual.

And then she turned a little, furrowing her brows in suspicion before she finally turned to face him. Laying her hands on the table behind her, she leaned into it and smiled knowingly. He was leaning against the doorway, lips curved upward just slightly as he watched her.

"How long have you been there?"

"A few minutes," he answered, pushing off the doorframe to take a few steps towards her.

Calleigh pursed her lips, taking in his tired eyes as her own drew over him. "How was LA?"

"Crazy." He took another step closer and he thought he saw her tense. But she eased the moment his fingers drew over her temple, slipping into her hair. "I didn't really see much of it." His hand reached the back of her neck, fingers caressing the soft skin there just like he sometimes did before dipping down to press his lips to hers.

She sensed it and gave him a sympathetic smile, but he noticed the way her eyes quickly flickered away. "I should get back to work…"

"Okay," he agreed reluctantly, studying her for just a moment too long. "I guess I should go catch up on sleep… Didn't get any on the red eye."

"Okay." She turned, checking the safety on the gun again. Fully knowing his eyes were still on her, she took a deep breath and buried her worries beneath the surface. "Hey, are you going home?"

He paused for a moment, slipping his hands into his pockets as his eyes narrowed on her at the question that had a blaringly obvious answer. "Yeah…"

Biting her lip, she picked up her gear and walked over to the range, a hint of her usual strut back in her stride. "Maybe you could go to mine."

Eric grinned hesitantly, watching a smile toy at her lips as she slipped her goggles on. "Maybe."

* * *

Calleigh had expected to come home to a quiet house – Eric still nestled beneath the covers, her home bathed in darkness. Instead, it was alive with lights, a little movement, and an overwhelmingly appetizing aroma. Realization struck her as she toed off her heels in the hallway. He was cooking – cooking something that reminded her of the nights she'd prepared her grandmother's favorites in an attempt to recapture the comforts of home.

And when she stepped into the kitchen, she knew why. Eric was stirring what had to be a pot of her Cajun jambalaya, and when he met her eyes he had this smarmy, pleased look on his face that was still somehow tender.

She rested a hand on the counter and the other on her hip. "What's all this?"

Lifting his eyes to hers, not at all startled, he simply opened two other pots to reveal seasoned greens and her favorite homemade macaroni and cheese.

"Comfort foods," she deduced, eyeing him skeptically with a slow tilt of her head. Still, there was an underlying knowing in her eyes – the tiniest crack in her façade.

He mirrored her, turning his head slightly to the side as he watched her with concern. "Something's wrong."

The defensive tightening of her shoulders came far too quickly, as did her too-sharp words. "Nothing is wrong," she assured. But she eased slightly when she realized how hollow it sounded. Shrugging, she met his eyes again and softened. "Everything's fine," she said, and though he didn't quite believe her he finally had the notion she was okay. "It's all normal and fine."

Eric knew she almost wanted to say more, but she drew a sudden breath in and fixed her eyes on the deliciously indulgent cheese overload.

"Hungry?" He smiled, relaxing a little.

"Starving."

. . .

With mostly empty dishes now littering her coffee table, Calleigh was surprisingly relaxed. She was content to let them sit in a certifiable mess, content to simply lie facing him on the sofa – content to let his touch lull her into a deep calm she'd lacked for days. He pressed his lips to her forehead and she sighed.

She wasn't going to say anything. Hadn't even considered it, really. But now she was tucked against his warm body, his fingertips skimming over her arm, and he had this way of drawing words from her lips like a sacred confessional. He didn't even have to try and yet he rarely failed.

But she held back the urge. This wasn't surprising or unexpected. It wasn't like there had been worries or expectations. There was no stake in saying anything. Still, somehow it was overwhelming.

"I'm not pregnant."

She pressed her lips together immediately afterward and rolled them as her eyes flickered over him. Still silent, he watched her, not quite putting it all together yet. It wasn't like they'd been trying. It wasn't like they _should_ have been ready for any of this after so much had just imposed a break on their relationship.

So he tried to bury the strange hint of disappointment within him as he simply uttered, "Okay." He even managed a forceful mildly relieved smile.

She did the same, sighing with a weight much different than that of relief. "In the clear…"

She was a little emotionless, but he chalked it up to the near loss of control he suspected she'd been troubled by. Even the possibility of the unexpected could always throw her off kilter.

"Yeah," he agreed halfheartedly. With his hand stilling on her arm for his palm to rest against her skin, he added comfortingly, "We can be more careful from now on, Cal…really this time." He stole a moment to collect the words he didn't mean but that he assumed she'd want to hear. "We should probably slow down a little."

She took a deep breath in to quell the frustration and nodded mechanically. "Yeah. I guess we should."

Resting the bridge of his nose against her temple, he paused there, wondering, maybe knowing. She would never risk losing that control unless she was sure of the outcome…right?

"Calleigh…"

Silently, she met his eyes, and he put together the pieces he was slow to believe were related. She was upset. She wasn't pregnant. She was upset _because_ she wasn't pregnant.

His eyes changed and she looked away, smiling sadly.

"Did you…" he began disbelievingly. Starting again, he tried, "_Do_ you…?"

She shook her head, brushing him off as reality pressed down on her. "No…" Blinking slowly, her lashes fluttered as her eyes landed on his again. "It's crazy."

But somehow it wasn't to him – not with the way he felt about her, and not considering how ready they'd almost been a few months ago. That time apart was feeling more and more like a strange dream that had been so real in the night and then forgotten days later. It was like they'd picked right back up where they'd left off, but stronger now – better and more honest. And thinking of where they'd left off met him with a world of endless possibilities…

"It's not that crazy," he told her, a slightly embarrassed yet assured look taking over his features. He was a little disappointed, too. "Not when I've wanted to marry you for years…" He smiled nervously, watching her surprised eyes. "Now that's crazy."

After swallowing the sudden ball of emotion in her throat, she smiled and pressed a palm to his chest. "It's not that crazy," she echoed softly.

"Really?" He questioned her a little playfully, raising a brow.

"No, I knew that." She smiled still, but spoke softly, balancing on the precarious edge between coy and serious.

"It seemed pretty crazy to me," he admitted, touching his hand to hers. "I mean, I had a ring and everything…_have_ a ring." Furrowing his brows at the correction, he toyed with her fingers, tangling them with his as her eyes settled on him without hesitation.

Somehow it wasn't that crazy to her. Actually, it was just the right amount of crazy.

**-\-**

A week in the Keys. It had surprised everyone. Calleigh had taken a sudden weeklong vacation to the Keys. With Eric. And she'd returned brighter, happier, and with a renewed sense of purpose.

As she walked across the ballistics lab, her usual swing was back in her hips. Her legs were leaner than ever thanks to a daily running partner, and her skin was unusually golden after a week of boat rides and beachside lounge chairs.

And thanks to her second skin of white exam gloves, no one had noticed the sparkling ring with a low profile solitaire diamond setting on her left hand, or the understated solid band perched atop it – and that was just the way she liked it. No questions, no judging glances, no details of her private life being whispered between the glass walls of the lab.

Of course, he was going to ruin all of that if he kept this up.

She smiled the moment she heard his footsteps, grinned as his arms encircled her waist from behind, and looked down as his hand came to rest over hers on the countertop. Her eyes settled on the matching platinum band on his left ring finger and she tried to hide a smile. She'd never been one for traditional symbolism, but she kind of had a thing for that ring.

Leaning back, she tucked her head beneath his while no one was around and sighed contentedly. "Hey."

"Hey." He brushed his lips against her temple discreetly. Luckily, the ballistics lab was often like solitary confinement. "Hungry?"

She turned to him and smiled. "Starving."


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: **_Thanks for your patience with the slow updates. I seriously cannot wait until summer break! This is the final chapter of this fic, though I may end up adding on an epilogue or writing a one-shot following it if I get inspired with an idea. Other than that, I should be working on Truth is a Whisper from now on, along with whatever else strikes me._

* * *

-:- five -:-

It was a little eerie being awake right now. Calleigh was used to waking at all hours of the night, relying on the comforts of her living room and a warm cup of tea, but this was different. The rooms of this house were rather empty, the halls still unfamiliar. Boxes lined the walls, full of the contents of their pasts just waiting to intermingle in new, shared space.

She was in love with this place, with its intricate, glossy hardwood floors and ceilings that seemed to stretch for miles from the floor. An angled staircase led to an open common area with skylights, and down the hall from that were several rooms branching off the hallway, culminating in the entrance to a master suite at the end. Off that was an entrance to a discreet stairwell leading to a large, open attic room with peaked ceilings that the sloped architecture of the back of the house afforded.

Downstairs, the main hall opened up to a wide living room, which led into the dining room that circled back around to the kitchen. Large windows were currently covered to hide midnight, but during the day they brought bright light into the rooms with the help of rich, cream-colored walls.

It was beautiful. And it was theirs, which, albeit lovely, hers had not been. They'd picked this one out together over a month ago, and though they'd barely unpacked since moving in yesterday afternoon, he'd insisted on sleeping here.

She breathed out with a lingering smile, looking around the empty kitchen as she pressed her back into the counter. The cup of tea she'd reluctantly microwaved was sitting in her hands, and she lifted it to her lips for a cautious sip. Her world had changed drastically in the past two months. In her eyes, it had been turned completely upside down – in a good way.

But still she couldn't help but wonder over all the changes and what they meant, especially the unspoken ones. They still hadn't exactly made a certain decision, and the longer it went on the less she questioned it. It had become less like a decision and more like playing with fire – they knew what they were getting into, and losing control was a realistic possibility.

She bit her lip. Were they ready for that? They'd just gotten married, had _just_ purchased this beautiful, quiet home together. Maybe it was her new surroundings, but something felt a little off-kilter tonight, a little different…and it went beyond just being in a new home. It had her questioning their decisions…or lack thereof.

The sound of footsteps amid the hollow walls drew her eyes to the doorway in time to catch his knowing smirk.

"So that's where that went," he realized aloud, eyes falling to _his_ shirt currently buttoned up over _her_ small frame.

She merely grinned, coyly taking another sip of her tea as her eyes shamelessly danced over his shirtless body. And then she feigned innocence, claiming, "I have no idea where all my stuff is."

"And yet you know where to find mine…" Raising a playful brow, he stepped towards her, toying with the long ends of his button-up before using them to draw himself closer to her.

"Well," she began, tucking her tongue into the roof of her mouth to draw out the sound. "This was exactly where _I'd_ left it, if I remember correctly." She grinned, narrowing her eyes to watch him closely as he took in the shirt with a more purposeful gaze.

His smirk curved into a grin to match hers. _Oh._ That shirt. The one she'd haphazardly tossed across the bathroom after practically luring him into an unnecessary shower following work. Rooms christened…bathroom? Check.

Her brows raised at his recognition.

Simply leaning into her, he rested his forehead against hers. "Have I mentioned how much I like that shower?"

Furrowing her brows in playful recollection, she answered, "Mmm…maybe once or twice."

"Good." He pressed his lips to hers and then pulled away, allowing her room to draw the mug to her lips again. "'Cause I do."

She only smiled, letting the warm liquid and his touch on her waist soothe her.

"So," he began, finally breeching the obvious topic. "Couldn't sleep?"

It surprised him a little that she was awake. She'd had this calm about her for days now. Buying a house and moving hadn't fazed her at all. What was usually a stressful process, especially for newlyweds, had been nothing but smooth for them. It had actually relaxed her.

She shrugged lightly, and he noticed her shoulders tense just a little afterward. "I woke up an hour ago and I just couldn't get back to sleep, so I started roaming."

"Find anything wrong yet?"

She smiled at their ongoing joke – that it was so lovely, they were just waiting to find a glaring crack in the wall somewhere or for the ground level to flood at the slightest drizzle.

"It's so empty." She didn't mean for that to come out as revealing and haunting as it had, but emotions she hadn't quite acknowledged had crept into her voice of their own accord. But there had been so many changes lately, and it seemed too soon to delve headfirst into another.

Quickly shrugging again, she covered with both a lighter tone and less revealing words. "We just need to unpack everything and get some more furniture," she explained, but her words were a little flat and, if he'd looked deeper, rather unconvincing.

Swallowing hard, he agreed with a muddled, "Yeah." Tempering down his false hope he added, "Maybe then it won't echo and I can actually sneak up on you."

Calleigh shook her head playfully as she set the mug aside. "Never."

Despite her sleeplessness and conflicted thoughts, there was a light in her eyes. He couldn't help but hold her gaze, taking it in, and counter her claim.

"I'm taking that as a challenge," he told her, hands slyly moving toward her hips.

"Fine." She cocked her head indignantly, but her body was already responding to his touch as he drew himself closer. Her shoulders relaxed, but her breathing didn't, and an involuntary sigh escaped her lips as his hands dipped beneath the shirt to find bare skin. They roamed the softness of her stomach, caressing sensitive skin before skimming over to her side.

He ducked his head near the crook of her neck, taking in the sweet scent of chamomile shampoo that still lingered in her hair from their mutual shower. Lips brushed the shell of her ear as his fingers swept through her hair, holding it back from her face.

"Bet I can get you back to sleep," he whispered, words somehow warming skin he wasn't even touching.

She didn't really need to ask, but… "How's that?"

She was a little too breathless, a little too undone; it made him smile. With his free hand, he drew a teasing line with his fingers over her hip and along the beginnings of satin and lace. She shifted under his touch as her body reacted, a light shudder coursing through her nerves.

"Tire you out," he answered after a prolonged moment of silence. He saw the edge of her smirk out of the corner of his eye, felt the weight of her press against him as she eased into his touch. Her hands had become adventurous now as she laid one over his abdomen and then let it glide over his firm muscles to rest at his chest.

"Now _that_ sounds like a challenge."

Judging by her response, it was one she was all too ready for. Circling her arms around his shoulders, she tugged him down to capture his lips with hers. His hands instinctively sunk into her skin as their lips melded together, his grip on her hip urging her higher, closer. Her mouth was even warmer after the hot tea, and as her lips tugged at his and parted, he acquiesced completely. Giving in to a tempting, deep press-and-slide, he kissed her with the promise of making good on his word.

When her hands skimmed down his chest and pressed against the taut muscles of his abdomen, he had to pin her against the counter again for support. It allowed him to reposition and, despite the urgency of her hands grazing lower skin, he managed to grip her thighs, half carrying her towards the stairs.

They paused at the base of the stairwell in a collision of breathless smiles and wandering hands. Slowing down much further for a moment, he carefully pulled the bottom button loose from the shirt. Contact almost came to a standstill as he searched upward for the next, pressing his lips to hers with an achingly slow tenderness in between unfastening buttons. Finally, she took a step backward, climbing one stair and then another in an invitation he was all too quick to accept.

"I like our house," she uttered between the kisses they'd stilled in the hall yet again to steal.

He grinned, guiding her into their bedroom – which wasn't really a bedroom at the moment, but more of a room with a bed. Furniture was piled in a corner, just waiting for arranging, and boxes with personal touches sat patiently along the walls until they could make the house more of a home. Somehow, though, it already was. This was all they needed – them, a place of their own, and maybe their lonely bed, sitting idle and ready in an otherwise unprepared room. All that mattered was that they were here, past the arbitrary excuses and unfounded doubts.

Still, though, as he pushed his shirt from her shoulders, her mind drifted back to all those empty, empty rooms.

**-/-**

It had taken two full days off, but they were finally settled in. Despite the rigid workouts he kept up after leaving PD work, his shoulders still protested the move with a twinge of soreness as he lifted his arm to press the elevator button for the fifth floor. The state attorney's office was a labyrinth of floors and halls, but it was all second nature to him now. Navigating from the east wing of the first floor conference area back to his office on the fifth floor had become a weekly, if not daily, occurrence.

He was settled now, both here, with work, and at home, with Calleigh. It seemed both farfetched and yet the most natural thing. She'd been more carefree lately – less guarded and more accepting to the here and now. They'd done what felt right, past and future, should and should not, be damned. So much time had been wasted on doubts, and both of them seemed bent on making up for lost time.

As he stepped off the elevator and veered to the left toward the main hall, a seemingly familiar flash of blonde hair at reception caught his eye. It couldn't be her, though… She'd only been here in the lobby in passing. It was as if they had some unspoken rule to always meet up at the lab, if only for the fact that it was such a large part of his past and he knew everyone there.

His building, on the other hand, was unfamiliar to her. He wasn't sure she even knew her way around… But as he closed the distance between them, the delicate sweep of golden hair cascading over her shoulders, her small frame, and, most notably, her face highlighted by those green eyes he loved so much were all unmistakable. Calleigh was there, at his office building, and clearly having trouble with their rule-loving receptionist. And somehow he just knew – why she hadn't called or even texted, why she was there looking a little uncharacteristically hurried.

"I'm sorry, he's not in his office. You'll have to wait," came the firm, yet inherently polite voice of Lisa, the receptionist.

He could just barely hear Calleigh's soft voice, accentuated with a hint of nervousness that had him worried for a moment. But her words were gentle, amused even, as she tried, "I could just wait in his office, if that's okay. I'm his, um, wife."

Lips curving upward, he chuckled to himself a little. He knew Calleigh had never exactly taken to the idea of belonging to someone, and the words were still hard to get out for her. Husband. Wife. They were new and strange, but he saw a little smile playing across her lips at the word.

And he could practically picture Lisa's scowl in response, especially since Calleigh had tripped over the explanation just a hair. Lisa was used to protecting against disgruntled families and friends of the prosecuted, so her hesitation was natural. "Well, I don't know," she began, tapping a pen in frustration as she brought up visitation records on her screen. "Have you been here before?"

"No…" Calleigh began, but before she could get out a rushed reply her eyes had found his. Relieved, calmed, and crumbling inside all at once, she gave him a hopeful smile he'd never exactly seen before. Yeah. He knew.

Rounding the large reception counter, he placed a hand at the small of Calleigh's back and sent Lisa a grateful nod, setting her at ease.

"Hey," he greeted Calleigh more intimately, watching her turn in towards him. "How are you?"

Drawing his eyes over her, he noticed she had taken the day off even though that hadn't been her plan. But the denim jeans and stylish, open-toe heels she had on weren't exactly part of her work attire, nor was the deep purple low-cut v-neck blouse she had on.

After he'd begun to guide her down the hall with him, he found her hand and wove their fingers together. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." She smiled, obviously a little overwhelmed, but her thumb brushed over his reassuringly. "I'm good. You?"

"Good," he echoed. Tugging her into an office near the back, he closed the door to afford them some privacy and then watched as she took in the details.

Eric was waiting impatiently, but her nerves were on edge. She absentmindedly ran a few fingers along the edge of a stretch of low profile cabinets that sat beneath a windowsill. Her eyes then drifted to his desk, suddenly fascinated with the whole notion, and she seated herself on one corner of it.

"So…you have an office?" she asked, partly disbelieving but mostly just amused. At the lab they shared workspaces; working for an attorney seemed so professional in comparison. And all this was…not at all relevant. She was stalling.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Calleigh…"

He needed to know for sure, needed to hear her say it. And he had a feeling she would finally convey what they'd been feeling for months – that they wanted this, that even though they hadn't flat out _said_ it, they had made the decision to get here. She was exerting both a newfound calmness and an excited agitation, struggling between two very complex extremes yet remaining collected on the surface.

Biting her lip, she confirmed his hope with one simple question. "We knew we were playing with fire, right?"

The grin that broke out over his features was contagious, and she quickly had one of her own playing across her lips. He couldn't help but move forward to hold her waist as his eyes surveyed her excitedly as though he could detect some physical change already.

Meeting her eyes again with a flood of hope, he asked, "You took a test?"

"Yeah," she admitted simply, happily, because that sounded better than her sudden 8am rush to the pharmacy for as many of those little boxes as she could find after five days of wondering. "Or five…"

Laughing, he rested his forehead against hers and attempted to reign in his excitement with a deep breath. It was no use, though, especially not when levelheaded, controlled Calleigh was smiling so wide and tipping her chin up to capture his lips with hers.

"You're so happy," he whispered, unintentionally thinking aloud. The moment it left his lips, he wondered if it shouldn't have.

But she understood.

"Yeah," she agreed. It was understated, but the real acknowledgement was silent. Her eyes locked with his as he held her face in his hands. They had wanted this all for so long – him even longer than her – but they'd danced around it. She'd taken so long to accept it, and he'd taken so long to voice it. They'd let work and other people get between them. "So are you."

She smiled at the irony with him. He'd wanted this for years, back when the very thought of a relationship with Eric had nearly paralyzed her with the fear of such emotional intimacy. And when she'd gotten over that, there was still the caution over jumping headlong into something her heart was practically screaming for.

Those days were over, though. They'd played with fire indeed this time, and they were burned and loving it.


End file.
